


Underwater

by saturnalyia



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Magical Realism, Non-Linear Narrative, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-05 01:58:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnalyia/pseuds/saturnalyia
Summary: “Do you think they’re together?” Minhyuk asks. “Wherever they are. Are they together?”Kihyun turns his gaze to the sea. It’s a stormy grey, sharp waves piercing through the surface, the horizon so heavy with clouds that it seems to be sinking down into the water.Changkyun thinks that he's falling in love with Siren, a mysterious creature who pulls him into dreams and makes him never want to wake up. From the outside looking in, all Minhyuk sees is his best friend, too consumed by grief to distinguish between what's real, and what's imaginary.





	Underwater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghoulgy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulgy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [not knowing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382255) by [touchszn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchszn/pseuds/touchszn). 

> hello remixee I hope you like what I did with your fic! you have so many amazing fics that are so beautiful and open-ended, it was so difficult to pick one to remix, but in the end the shape of water au was too fascinating and complex and layered for me to not try and play with... enjoy!
> 
> to everyone else, you don't need to have read the remixed fic first but it's very good and I recommend it :)

The air is bitingly cold, wet with the spray of the sea. Minhyuk doesn’t seem to feel it at all. He stands at the edge of the rocky outcrop, staring out at the blustering ocean. The wind whips his fringe across his forehead.

“Minhyuk,” Kihyun says, quietly. He places one hand on Minhyuk’s shoulder, a plaintive attempt at a reminder of where they are, who they are. Of what’s real and what’s in the mind. Those things, as they’ve both come to learn, are harder than expected to separate.

“Do you think they’re together?” Minhyuk asks. “Wherever they are. Are they together?”

Kihyun turns his gaze to the sea. It’s a stormy grey, sharp waves piercing through the surface, the horizon so heavy with clouds that it seems to be sinking down into the water.

“I don’t know,” he replies, because it’s the truth, and because he’s never been one to lie. “But I hope so.” That's the truth too.

Minhyuk takes in a long, breath, holds it at the top of his inhale. Like, maybe, he’s trying to feel what it must have been like, for them. In the end, though, he lets go — exhales, the breath shuddering out through his whole body.

Kihyun releases the breath that he hadn’t even realised he was holding.

“I hope so too,” Minhyuk says, unblinking. Unmoving. His eyes are sad. They’ve been sad for a long time. Kihyun wants to make it better, but he doesn’t know how. So he just slips his hand into Minhyuk’s, interlaces their fingers. If he can’t make Minhyuk better, he’ll just stay by Minhyuk’s side, make sure he doesn’t drift away.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. There was a time, when Minhyuk wasn’t the one drifting. When he was the one struggling to hold on.

Here’s how it begins — in the middle of it all:

* * *

“Changkyun’s asking about Siren again.”

Kihyun doesn’t look up from where he’s carefully weaving three strands of dough into a twisted braid. There’s flour everywhere — on the countertop, on the floor, some of it on Minhyuk’s hands, even though he hasn’t touched the dough at all. Somewhat miraculously, aside from his flour-covered hands, none of it has gotten onto Kihyun himself.

“Tell Changkyun that circus-folk aren’t supposed to ask questions.”

“You don’t think I’ve told him that?” Minhyuk prods experimentally at one of the strands of dough. His finger leaves a faint impression in the malleable surface. Kihyun smacks at his arm, but doesn’t say anything. Minhyuk wipes his hand on the front of his shirt. It leaves a floury streak across the dark fabric. “Anyway, I told him Siren likes eggs, so if you see him sneaking in to steal an egg, maybe turn a blind eye.”

Kihyun makes a sharp clicking noise, his tongue against the back of his throat. “Why would you tell him that?”

There’s a long silence, as if Minhyuk hasn’t heard him. But then, Minhyuk speaks, and this time his voice isn’t bright, or playful, like it usually is. “Because,” he says, quietly, “when’s the last time Changkyun was curious about anything?”

This makes Kihyun pause. His fingers still above the dough he’s working with. He sighs heavily, leaning the heels of his hands against the edge of the counter. “Minhyuk—”

Minhyuk shakes his head, pushing himself away from the counter. “This is good,” he says. “This is a good thing.”

* * *

“Changkyun went to see Siren.”

Kihyun makes a face at Minhyuk. “Why are you dressed as a clown?”

Minhyuk sets his meal tray down on the table with a clatter, brushing Kihyun off with a wave of his hand as he sits down. “Jooheon has a cold, they needed a stand-in.” 

“And what’s this about Changkyun?”

“Siren. He went to see him.” Minhyuk shovels a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Brought him an egg, apparently.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?”

Minhyuk shrugs. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. Red lipstick smears across the white paint covering his skin. “It was weird,” he says, not really answering Kihyun’s question, “Changkyun said Siren was...nice. Like they’d talked, or something.”

“Siren can’t talk. He —  _ it  _ — is a fish.”

“Yeah, see, that’s what I thought. But Changkyun said he’s not a fish.”

Kihyun narrows his eyes.  _ “It,” _ he repeats, correcting Minhyuk, who ignores him. He sighs. “I was there when they brought Siren in,” he continues, “and it was definitely a fish. A big, weird-looking fish, but a fish for sure.”

“I’m just repeating what Changkyun told me.”

“Well, Changkyun’s wrong,” Kihyun replies primly. “That’s why customers aren’t allowed in the shed, can only peer at Siren through the darkness. If Changkyun had looked at him properly, he’d know.”

Minhyuk hums thoughtfully. Kihyun watches as he dips his head down, stabbing a slice of carrot and popping it into his mouth. He waits for Minhyuk to say something else, but Minhyuk doesn’t. Just pushes some of the peas on his tray around. Kihyun exhales, already regretting this.

“You’re being very quiet all of a sudden.”

This makes Minhyuk look up, eyes wide in surprise. “You want me to talk  _ more?” _

“No.” Kihyun purses his lips. “It’s just — it’s weird. When you’re not yapping away in my ear.”

Minhyuk twists his lips to one side. He taps the tines of his fork against the metal of his tray. “I don’t know,” he says, eyes cast down, “I just have a sudden bad feeling about this.”

Kihyun kicks at Minhyuk’s foot beneath the table, making Minhyuk look at him again. It’s a little unnerving, the faded clown face paint masking most of Minhyuk from view. Kihyun bites down on the swell of fear that bubbles up inside him.

“If you’re worried, just ask Changkyun what’s going on.”

Minhyuk stares at Kihyun. “I would,” he mumbles, “but I don’t know what to ask.”

* * *

It’s over a week later before Minhyuk finally figures out the right question to ask.

“You keep going to see Siren,” he says, one night, without prelude. The words had been rattling around in his head for days now. He's been seeing Changkyun sneaking out of their shared sleeping car, an egg clutched tightly in one hand, and he wants to say something about it but he doesn’t know how.

There’s a long silence, and in the darkness Minhyuk can’t tell if Changkyun’s heard him or not. But then he hears Changkyun shifting in his cot, followed by a sniffle. He sounds oddly clogged up. “I guess,” he replies, a faraway sort of lilt to his voice. Like he’s not really talking to Minhyuk at all.

“What are you doing with Siren all the time?” Minhyuk presses. “It’s not like Siren can talk — right?”

“No, I suppose not.” Changkyun pauses, and Minhyuk imagines his brows knitting together. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.”

Changkyun tilts his head towards Minhyuk, and a sliver of moonlight catches his profile, suddenly startlingly clear. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that Minhyuk can’t quite decipher. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Probably not, Minhyuk thinks. But it doesn’t help that Changkyun never tells him anything, just keeps his feelings swallowed up inside him like he's feeding some terrifying, insatiable gorgon. That’s the way he’s always been, and it’s only gotten worse, since—

“But you guys can...communicate? Somehow?”

A pause, before Changkyun nods slowly. The moonlight shifts like water across his skin. “Somehow,” he says. “Yeah.”

Minhyuk has so many questions. Most of them, he knows Changkyun won’t answer. Questions like:  _ Why do you go to see Siren?  _ Or:  _ What do you talk about?  _

Or, the one question that he’d asked over and over again, for years, until he realised Changkyun would always lie to him:

_ Are you okay? _

He settles for asking what he thinks is a mundane question. 

It turns out to provide all the answers he needs.

“So, uh,” Minhyuk says, conversationally, “what’s Siren’s name?”

The silence that follows is so stretched out that Minhyuk thinks maybe Changkyun’s fallen asleep. Except it’s also tense, and wound tight, thin like a rubber band. Minhyuk doesn’t dare to exhale, because it feels like something might shatter.

“Hyungwon,” Changkyun says, finally, his voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “His name is Hyungwon.”

Minhyuk’s breath hitches in his throat.

* * *

The sun is hanging low in the sky, painting it a fiery orange. Minhyuk’s looking for Changkyun. He isn’t hard to find. There’s only one place he would be, these days.

Minhyuk pushes open the heavy curtain into the film tent, where silly films are sometimes screened as part of the sideshow to the main circus. It’s dark inside, but there are voices coming from behind the screen leading into the projection booth. 

“Oi, I’m coming in!” Minhyuk calls out, already wandering past the screen. “So stop kissing, or whatever it is you’re doing in there!”

Changkyun giggles brightly, toppling into Minhyuk like he’s drunk, even though he’s not. This is just what he’s like all the time, now. “Hyung!” Changkyun whines. “We weren’t kissing!”

Minhyuk raises an eyebrow. “A likely story,” he says, but he’s biting down on a laugh. He spins Changkyun around, pushes him back into Hyungwon’s waiting arms. “It’s dinner time,” Minhyuk says, “let’s go eat.”

Hyungwon slings one spindly arm around Changkyun’s shoulders, presses a kiss into the top of his head. Changkyun wraps his arms around Hyungwon’s waist. 

“You guys are so gross,” Minhyuk says, turning on his heel and striding back out of the film tent. He can hear the two of them laughing as they follow him. “It's been  _ years,  _ how are you guys still this gross?"

“We'll be as gross as we want!” Changkyun declares.

Hyungwon laughs, low and sweet. “What's gross about love?” he coos, exaggeratedly syrupy, just for Minhyuk's benefit. Changkyun shrieks with laughter when Hyungwon presses a sloppy kiss into his cheek.

“You’re both idiots,” Minhyuk pipes up, but without heat. Changkyun and Hyungwon are a pair deal, that's just how it works, how the universe operates. There's no one without the other. He's used to it, everyone in the circus is used to it.

So he just watches with a fond smile on his lips, as Changkyun takes Hyungwon’s hand in his own and drags him ahead of Minhyuk in the direction of the mess tent. The two of them whirling and reeling across the circus grounds in a storm of happiness and shouts of laughter and the bright, incandescent energy of being in love.

_ They’re going to be together forever.  _ Minhyuk remembers thinking this, at that very moment. Remembers how sure he had felt about this one, inalienable truth.

In one sense, he would turn out to be wrong.

(In another sense, he would be more right than he's ever been about anything.) 

* * *

Here is something that Minhyuk doesn’t remember, because he wasn’t there. Something that Changkyun won’t remember, and that Hyungwon can’t.

A bright red cloak, stolen from the circus stores, spread out across a pebble beach strewn with debris. Two bodies entangled on top of the velvety fabric, pale skin lit only by the moon and the stars. Hands slipping across bare chests and down gooseflesh-pimpled arms. Lips and teeth and tongues crashing. 

Someone whispering: “I love you.”

Someone else whispering back: “I love you too.”

The rhythmic, thundering crashing of the waves against the shore. The tang of salt permeating the air.

And the endless  _ tha-thump, tha-thump _ of their hearts.

* * *

“Kihyun. Kihyun. Wake up.”

“Wha— Minhyuk?” Kihyun cracks one eye open, pushes himself awkwardly up onto his elbows. “What are you doing here?”

Minhyuk is crouched down by Kihyun’s cot. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says in a whisper. “I know this is weird, but I — I need to talk to you.”

“Right now?”

“Sorry, I just — I thought I would talk to you tomorrow, but then I talked to Changkyun, and I couldn’t sleep after — and Changkyun snuck out again, and I—” Minhyuk’s words are coming too fast, spilling out one after the other, and he’s always been a little bit like this, but this time there’s a frighteningly frantic quality to his voice that makes Kihyun sit up straighter.

“Hey, hey — slow down.” Kihyun rubs at his eyes with the back of one hand, trying to push the groggy feeling away. “Is everything okay?”

Minhyuk blinks up at Kihyun. The faint moonlight streaming in from a slit between the wood panels of the shed catches on Minhyuk’s face, and Kihyun realises that his eyes are glassy with tears. Fear clutches suddenly at Kihyun’s chest, and he swings his legs over the side of the cot, cradles Minhyuk’s face between his small hands. 

“Fuck, are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“Changkyun — earlier,” Minhyuk hiccups. He looks, all of a sudden, so, incredibly, young. His voice is thick and choked. “After we went to bed — I asked him about Siren.”

“And? And what happened?”

Minhyuk squeezes his eyes shut. A single, glistening tear, slides down his cheek. Kihyun thumbs at Minhyuk’s cheek, feels the wetness of the tear against his skin.

“I asked him what Siren’s name was,” Minhyuk mumbles, but his eyes are fixed on Kihyun with a desperate intensity. “He said Siren was called —  _ Hyungwon.” _

Kihyun feels his lips part in surprise. “Minhyuk, are you sure—”

“I wouldn’t have misheard something like that.” Minhyuk’s hands come up to hold Kihyun’s, where they’re pressed against his cheek. His eyes are wide, pupils blown. “Ki, he hasn’t said that name since—” he says, in a voice that’s barely a whisper but infinitely more piercing, before he suddenly breaks off, voice cracking. 

Kihyun doesn’t know what else to do, so he just leans down, kisses Minhyuk on the forehead. “It’ll be okay,” he says, lips against Minhyuk’s skin, even though he scarcely believes it himself. “We’ll talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Minhyuk exhales slowly, shakily. They’re holding hands. When did they start holding hands? “Can I stay here, with you, tonight?”

Kihyun just nods, shuffles back onto his cot to make space for Minhyuk. They curl up face to face, legs twisted together, hands still interlocked. Minhyuk closes his eyes, but he doesn’t fall asleep. Kihyun can tell, from the unsteady way he’s breathing.

Kihyun feels frightened in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

* * *

“Have you seen Changkyun?” 

It’s an unusually chilly spring morning. They’re meant to be packing up to move to the next town, which most of the circus crew tend to treat like a free day, at least until mid-afternoon, when everyone realises how much packing needs to be done, and the entire circus goes into a frenzy.

“He’s probably off with Hyungwon,” Kihyun replies, distractedly, as he counts through the number of bags of flour they have left. “We’re missing a bag of flour — have you done something with it?”

Minhyuk wrinkles up his nose. “No,” he grumbles, casting a worried glance out of the tent. “Changkyun said he and Hyungwon were going for a swim, but they should be back by now.”

“You worry about Changkyun too much.”

“I worry about that chaotic child just the right amount,” Minhyuk replies huffily. He folds his arms across his chest. “Who even goes swimming in this weather? It’s too  _ cold.” _

Kihyun shrugs, setting his baking utensils into the crate atop the bags of flour, and shutting the lid. He’ll locate the missing bag later. “It was warm earlier in the morning,” he points out. “He couldn’t have known the weather would turn.”

“Yeah, I guess—”

“Besides,” Kihyun continues, “Hyungwon’s with him, right? He’ll take care of Changkyun.”

Minhyuk purses his lips together. “I know he will,” he concedes. He pauses, then smiles shyly at Kihyun. “They’re cute together.” 

Kihyun can feel Minhyuk staring at him as he goes to set a crate of dry foodstuffs by the entrance to the tent. There’s a weird intensity in Minhyuk’s gaze. Kihyun turns to face him, one eyebrow raised in an unspoken question.

“Hey, Ki,” Minhyuk says, haltingly. Something crackles in the air between them. “I wanted to ask you something—”

But Kihyun never gets to find out what Minhyuk wanted to ask.

Because there’s a sudden shout of panic from outside the tent, and then people are running and yelling across the circus grounds. Kihyun and Minhyuk’s head both whip round towards the source of the noise.

“It’s Changkyun!” someone outside screams, in a frenetic, escalating pitch, “He was in the ocean!”

Everything from then on is a blur of colour and shapes and movement and sounds. Kihyun vaguely remembers tripping over himself as he runs out of the tent behind Minhyuk. He has a dim recollection of Changkyun, skin blue with cold, dripping wet, sprawled out across the grass. Someone is screaming about a fisherman pulling him out of the surf, someone else is wailing piteously, and Kihyun only realises as he stumbles to the ground that his vision is swimming with tears.

Changkyun is coughing, spluttering, feeble but very, very much alive. Minhyuk is crying out his name, reaching out for him, but Changkyun pushes him away. 

Kihyun will never forget the wild, desperate panic in Changkyun’s eyes. 

“Where’s Hyungwon?” Changkyun screams. He clambers onto his knees, pitching himself at Minhyuk, fear and fury bleeding out of every pore. Kihyun can’t remember very much, but he remembers that Changkyun doesn’t stops screaming — just two words, looping like a film reel, again and again, a blaring siren warning them that things will never be the same again:

_ “Where’s Hyungwon?” _

* * *

“Do you not remember? How can you not remember?”

Changkyun, somehow, is perfectly impassive in the face of Minhyuk’s mounting hysteria. This probably wasn’t what Kihyun had meant when he’d told Minhyuk to go talk to Changkyun. But Minhyuk’s spent years trying to get through to this Changkyun, the one that had shut down completely after Hyungwon left them, and he’s reached a point of wild desperation. He can feel Changkyun slipping away from them like water through cupped fingers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Changkyun says, his voice hopelessly apathetic, devoid of emotion.

_ “Hyungwon,” _ Minhyuk hisses. He claps his hands onto Changkyun’s shoulders, shakes him vigorously. “How can you possibly have forgotten  _ Hyungwon?” _

Changkyun lets Minhyuk shake him, limp like a ragdoll. “I haven’t forgotten,” he says, “Hyungwon is Siren. That’s Siren’s name.”

Minhyuk hears his own voice crack. “Changkyun,” he croaks out, pleading, “that’s not who Hyungwon is, you know it, you have to know it—”

This is his fault. This is all of their faults. They’d let Changkyun push the painful memories aside to protect him, and now they’re lost to him forever. 

Except not really. Because they’re still seeping through the cracks, flooding the room Changkyun’s in, and Changkyun doesn’t realise he needs to swim.

“I’m sorry,” Changkyun says, and it sounds, at least, like he means it. Minhyuk can feel the pressure in his chest building. “I’m sorry that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Minhyuk doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say. Everything feels like it’s being wrenched apart. 

He chokes down a sob and crumples to the ground, the grass damp beneath him. Changkyun squats down next to him. There’s concern in Changkyun’s gaze, but also something distant, like Changkyun is looking at him through the distortion of a tank of water. 

Minhyuk can’t breathe. He wheezes, chokes, then finally sucks in a sharp breath of air. It stings of salt, and the sea.

* * *

Minhyuk drags Changkyun out of the bathtub. It takes all his effort, because Changkyun isn’t cooperating, and the two of them go toppling onto the cold tiled floor as water sloshes out over them.

“What are you doing?” Minhyuk screams, more out of panic than anything else.  _ “What are you doing?” _

Changkyun’s half-clinging onto Minhyuk, half-twisting to get away. He’s sobbing, Minhyuk realises, fingers curling desperately into Minhyuk’s shirt. His hair sticks to his forehead, hanging in his eyes, which are ringed with dark circles. He’s paler than Minhyuk ever remembers him being before, and his skin is cold and clammy and feels terrifyingly like stone. 

“Please,” Minhyuk cries out, hands on Changkyun’s face, smoothing his hair away from his face. Changkyun’s shaking. Both of them are. “Changkyun, please,  _ please—” _

“I wanted to know what Hyungwon felt like,” Changkyun heaves out, shuddering in Minhyuk’s arms. “I wanted to know — I wanted to be with him — I should have been with him—”

Minhyuk’s crying too, now. He can taste the salt of his tears as they slip down his cheeks and into the corners of his lips. “You can’t,” he manages to croak out, voice cracking. He presses Changkyun to his chest, rocking him back and forth weakly. “You have to stay here, with us.”

“I have to be with him.” Changkyun’s voice is muffled into Minhyuk’s shirt, but Minhyuk hears it, clear and plain as the tolling of a bell. “Not here, but in the ocean. I’m going to the ocean.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Minhyuk tightens his grip around Changkyun, who’s so frail now, so small and thin like he’s trying to physically fade away.

Changkyun’s breath stutters, like he’s trying to speak but he can’t make the words. “How can I stay,” he says, and it’s  _ sad,  _ so, so sad, “how can I stay when I know that he’s not here? When I remember what it was like when he was?”

Minhyuk doesn’t know. There are no answers to these questions. Terror grips at his heart.

“Then forget,” he pleads, “if that’s what it takes for you to stay, then forget him.”

“I will never forget,” Changkyun replies. It’s ominous, a low chime of warning.

One week later, Changkyun jumps into the ocean, and when they pull him out, he’s forgotten Hyungwon’s name.

* * *

“He’s going to leave,” Minhyuk says, vision blurry with tears. The remnants of his clown makeup streak across his cheeks, tan skin peeking through smudged white paint, lips smeared blood red. Kihyun can’t even find it in himself to laugh. It’s not funny. Nothing about this is funny.

“You don’t know that,” he replies, but his voice is shaking, and Minhyuk is too. 

“He was always going to leave,” Minhyuk says, choked and reeking with anguish, “we forced him to stay and we’ve kept him here for years, but he was always going to leave.”

Kihyun doesn’t have anything to say to that. Changkyun, in forgetting Hyungwon, had turned into a mere shell of himself. Like he’d already been pulling away from them all this time, steady and unyielding like the drag of the tides.

“I don’t know what to do,” Minhyuk whispers, looking down, and something inside Kihyun shatters. “Ki — I don’t know how to save him.”

Kihyun presses his palms flat against the sides of Minhyuk’s cheeks. Tilts his head up so that they’re looking eye to eye. Minhyuk’s taller, but in this moment he feels small. Delicate, like something Kihyun needs to protect.

“It’s not your job to save him,” he says, firmly, even though he has no idea what he’s talking about. He wipes his thumbs against the tears leaking out from Minhyuk’s eyes, crawling down his cheeks. It rubs some more of the white paint off Minhyuk’s face. Slowly, his beautiful golden skin beneath slips into view. “You’ve done everything you could.”

Minhyuk sniffles a little at this. “Have I?” he asks feebly. “I don’t feel like I have.”

“You have.” This much, Kihyun is sure about. 

A beat passes. It's not Kihyun's job to save Minhyuk, either — but he'll do everything he can. He tips his head forward into Minhyuk’s, presses their foreheads together. Up close, he can see Minhyuk’s tears pooling like dewdrops on his lashes. “I promise you, you have.”

“Ki—” Minhyuk exhales, and even with how frightened he is it's also full of love and emotion and beautiful in a startling, utterly Minhyuk way, and Kihyun realises something that maybe he's always known. 

"Min," Kihyun breathes back, and then he's tilting his chin, and carefully slotting their lips together. They’re standing in the shadows behind the mess tent, both of them overflowing with grief, but still somehow there’s this tiny sliver of space for something that feels almost like love. 

Minhyuk is warm, and his lips taste of the ocean.

* * *

Changkyun is watching them, for a bit, and then he's not. Seawater runs through his veins.

* * *

In the distance, on the beach below them, Kihyun can see the cracked, moss-covered bathtub being heaved out of the caravan onto the sand. And inside, Siren — scales dull and body weak and barely alive. Hoseok and Hyunwoo drag Siren out of the stagnant water, stagger into the surf, ready to release it, him, whatever, back into the ocean.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Kihyun says. He squeezes Minhyuk’s hand in his own.

Minhyuk just continues staring. Not at Siren, or the accompanying commotion on the beach. Just  _ out.  _ Into the distance, where the waves are breaking and the clouds gathering overhead.

“It’s just a thing,” Minhyuk says. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

And no, it doesn’t. But it hadn’t felt right, keeping Siren with them, not after everything that had happened. 

(Because maybe Siren wasn’t named Hyungwon. But maybe Siren was someone else’s Hyungwon, and maybe that someone else was waiting.)

Minhyuk turns away from the lure of the sea. He locks gazes with Kihyun, steady, and present. The waves crash, with the looping rhythm of a metronome, onto the shore.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos muchos appreciated!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/saturnalyia)


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